Serenity
by Raven Shinobi
Summary: Digital Devil Saga: Avatar Tuner II. Heat and a moment alone in the E.G.G. facility. Heat and his unrequited love for the Cyber Shaman. Revised.


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Disclaimer: Digital Devil Saga is the property of Atlus.

A/N (25/6/2010): I would like to thank all those who reviewed this fic. I fixed the mistakes and I also did a bit of a re-write; if there are still signs of OOCness, don't hesitate to point them out to me.

Serenity

An agonized groan escapes my bloodied lips, the pain in every muscle of my body is intensifying, poking at my guts with the sharpness of a knife as I throw my carcass onto the nearest chair in our designated arena. As I shift my body to a more comfortable sitting position, more blood oozes out of the gashes and pools into my lap; its tickling clamminess that's creeping on my skin is slowly dying my battle suit with the color that signified approaching death. Is this really the end for me?

As I weakly raise my head onto the ceiling, everything in my field of vision turns into a blurred, jumbled, colored mess; my breathing is coming out in labored gasps as my weakening body sinks further into my seat. My eyes narrow, frustrated at my inability to do something to improve my situation somehow; I then wonder why wasn't I a bit more far-sighted and learned something as basic as the Dia spell in case I ran out of recovery items?

My life after the awakening of my Atma then flashes by me in response: but of course, I saw the role of the Healer so beneath me and only befitting of weaklings like Argilla. Overall, I was too caught up building up my body and honing my fighting skills to prove my superiority over Serph and divert Sera's attention from him and onto myself...

I snort as my pathetic musing sinks in - who am I kidding? Not even when our asses were handed to us by that punk who called himself Hitoshura in the Junkyard that I felt such excruciating pain. I doubt that my injuries are within the ability of Dia or whatever its higher versions are called. Heck, I don't even think that I in my current state can transform into Agni to be able to cast any spells on myself.

As all the colors in sight blend into complete whiteness my thoughts drift to the person that I think I'm going to miss the most in the afterlife. I wonder if Sera will even shed a tear for me after I kick the bucket, just as she did for Serph, fearing the worst as he fell from the crumbling platform before the Junkyard was deleted.

Is she going to miss me? Will she come to think every now and then that it isn't the same without me around?

I felt the urge to shake my head in self-pity at my wishful thinking - why would she mourn my death? I've already caused her so much hurt. Why the hell is she going to miss me when she barely noticed me to begin with?

The sigh that I released at that depressing thought was soon followed by the corner of my mouth curling up derisively as I mused on the irony of my existence and all the lifetimes that I lived and died in for the same damn, ungrateful woman. The funny thing about my current self is that it's nothing but the embodiment of that woman's corrupted impression of my past life, Dr. Heat - the only one who truly gave a shit about her. And as a result, I came to be the son of a bitch that everyone around me must be perceiving me as. On the other hand, that dipshit Sheffield undeservingly got the easy way out and was reborn as everyone's hero who also got the girl at the end; that bastard!

Now that I think about it, Sera indeed had a naive, innocent view on love; it must've been quite painful for her to have it shattered by the same man that she loved and believed in from the bottom of her heart. Even if Serph still grates on my nerves, even if he's just a fake: just a projection of Sera's false impression of his past life that had used her... as much as I hate to admit it, he proved that he can take care of her and no longer has it in him to do anything that will make her cry. At least, I can die knowing that she will be in good hands.

Suddenly, I lunge forwards. One arm protectively encircles my midsection, the other covers my mouth as the coppery taste and scent of blood drifts to my mouth and nostrils as I enter a coughing fit. My lungs barely can draw in the next breath as my ears pick up the faint clicking sound of approaching footsteps on the metallic floor. I force the following words through the pain that's constricting my throat as soon as the door whishes open, "You took so long... that I almost fell asleep!"


End file.
